


The World Doesn't Wait

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [3]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Macbeth - Freeform, Star Wolf, Suicide mention, pre-Star Fox 64, prison break - Freeform, some bad words, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: 2 BLW-- The world doesn't wait, even when one is trapped in one of the highest security prisons in the Lylat System.





	

            They had transported him to Macbeth Chasma Penitentiary, where the worst of the worst rotted behind touch-sensitive bars.  The smart ones flung themselves into the electricity and did away with their lives before the mental degradation settled in.  Someone came around every morning to collect the ashes from the floor.  There were always piles in the morning. 

            His guard was a quiet sort, a lizard with large, round eyes that always seemed to be filled with suspicion.  The way the guard moved marked him as a killer and so he did not dare to rebel.  He knew when he was defeated, even if it was a heavy hit to his pride.  The lizard scarcely uttered a word to him, but when he did, his words were accented in a way that Wolf O’Donnell had never heard before.  There was always a razor edge in the guard’s tone, as if daring anyone to try his patience. 

            On that particular day, the lizard guard had come to fetch him from his cell for what Wolf supposed was a meeting with his lawyer.  He had not been able to afford one from his own pocket, thus the Cornerian government had provided him with one.  Not that it particularly mattered—he was going to be locked away for life if the Cornerians had it their way.  Chasma was their holding cell for their executions and lifers—everyone in the Lylat System knew once you entered the formidable prison, the odds were against you ever leaving.  Wolf tried to make peace with that idea but he had never been a peaceful sort.  His eyes were constantly moving to find the out, the hole in the system he could exploit.  It was just taking him longer than expected.

            “Another day in Hell,” the guard hissed to him and Wolf merely stared ahead.  A swipe of the guard’s cardkey and the doors slid open. “Hope you like the heat, O’Donnell.”

            The hallways were narrow throughout the prison.  A blaster was pointed at his back as they proceeded down, its coldness biting through the jumpsuit.  He arched his spine ever so slightly out of discomfort as they proceeded, the corridor spilling into an atrium.  They took a left and moved towards another branch of the main building.  Over the railing, Wolf could see guards overlooking the prisoners as they ate in dead silence.  The sound of their footsteps echoed like grenade blasts.  It made him feel all the more self-conscious.

            They passed the first hallway and Wolf did a double-take, knowing the visitation wing was in that direction.  The blaster to his back kept him moving however and he did not vocalize his confusion.  There was a smugness about the lizard, as if he had a calculated plan.  Wolf was not one to spook easily, but his discomfort grew with every step.  A glance over his shoulder at the lizard and he saw the guard’s smile creeping further and further—twisted and knowing.  Briefly, he wondered if he would find his chance at freedom in the coming moments, but decided to quell his rising hope before it could get out of control.  For all he knew, the guard had simply chosen him for a random pat down… or worse, for a random act of violence. 

            They walked towards the hanger and no one questioned them.  The guards were almost as deteriorated as the prisoners—perhaps that was why they swapped them out so frequently.  As Wolf thought about it, he supposed the lizard guard had only been around for a few months.  He was likely to be shipped out elsewhere by the end of the week to prevent his psyche from destabilizing in the dreary prison. 

            A captain approached, his hat decorated with a splash of silver to mark his rank.  The blaster dug further into Wolf’s back and the lizard’s hot breath steamed against his ear.

            “Don’t say a word.”

            The captain was a spotted dog with sharp brown eyes.  Wolf did as he was told as the dog took notice of them, his arms stiffly behind his back and his chin lifted with an air of inflated superiority. 

           “Where are you taking him?” the captain asked the lizard guard.

           “The loading dock, sir,” the lizard said.  If it was a lie, it was as smooth as the rolling waves of Zoness, and it was only through his own context that Wolf questioned it.  “This one is expected in Corneria City tomorrow morning for his trial.  I was given the order to escort him to the transportation vehicle by Captain Regulus.”

           “Regulus?  That old fool,” the captain swore angrily. “Wouldn’t know how to run a prison if a How-To-Guide hit him in his old greying nose!  I’m giving you the order to hold off.  I know this one.  He’s a wanted bounty hunter across 5 different planets.  Take him back to his cell while I sort this out.”

           “Yes, sir,” the lizard said as the spotted dog dashed away.  He hesitated a moment but the smugness returned onto his face and he continued onward down his original path, a soft, unsettling chuckle escaping him. 

          “That was easy,” Wolf commented quietly.

          “This has all been easy,” the lizard muttered and they continued to another set of doors.  Wolf saw the guard look to the security cameras in the next corridor and when they were around the corner, the lizard pulled him into a nearby room.  It was a cargo storage, filled almost to the ceiling with crates and boxes of a variety.

          “Is this the part where you decide to kill me?” Wolf asked the guard warily, quirking one of his bushy brows.  The lizard pulled out a key to his cuffs and began working at unlocking the device.

          “If I wanted you dead, this would have been even easier,” the lizard retorted. “I would not have spent months infiltrating this damn place.”

          “Infiltrating?  So you’re not defecting, you’re just…” Wolf’s eyes moved from the manacles to the lizard. “… Who are you?”  The cuffs came off and the lizard let them thud to the floor.  His eyes flitted back to the canine, a devilish grin playing about his mouth.

         “A knife in the dark,” came the enigmatic reply.  From his belt, he produced a second blaster, handing it to Wolf.  “The guards in there will know that we have no clearance.  My employer cares not if there are casualties.”

         They departed the room and opened the hanger doors.  A walkway overlooked the hanger, where the criminal scum and the unfortunate were dragged in.  Macbeth’s rocky, unforgiving landscape was beyond a force field, which glimmered blue.  Below, there were not many guards.  They stood about, evidently slacking in the hanger, near the patrol vehicles and transportation carriers.  The lizard began down the ramp quietly and Wolf followed, trying to keep as quiet as he could. 

         The first guard to spot them was a hound and the lizard answered his cry of surprise with a laser between his eyes.  As the first fell, the others grabbed their guns.  Wolf brought his blaster to the ready position and fired upon the Cornerian guards.  A blast struck the area near his left ear, its heat warming his face.  As the last one fell under the lizard’s onslaught of laser fire, Wolf stepped from the ramp onto the flat floor.  The shield did not block out the cold from Macbeth’s air and Wolf felt the wind bit through the force field.  It caressed his fur and sent a small chill down his spine.  He stepped over one of the warm corpses, walking toward a carrier that the lizard had picked out.  As the ramp spilled out and the interior opened up, the infiltrator glanced back at him.  He did not say anything but simply gestured for Wolf to follow and so the bounty hunter did.

       Guards were beginning to pour from the door when the engines revved on, and the lizard activated the weapons system. 

       “I’ll give you the secondary guns,” said the lizard. “Shoot the guards.  I’ll work on the shield generators.”

       Wolf clasped the stick in his hands, swinging it back and forth with a few test fires in order to see how far the lasers could fire.  He positioned the barrel towards the door and began unleashing blasts.  The way that the guards flew about with each hit sent a tingle of joy down his spine and he smirked.  There was nothing pretty about death, but there was something beautiful about revenge.  The spotted captain came into view and Wolf silenced him with a stream of lasers.  A clicking noise from the force field indicated it had gone inactive and the carrier rose with life.  There were scraps and small shudders as the carrier was struck by a few blasts, but the lizard pressed on the boost.  The carrier’s left wing clipped the door on the way out.

      “They’re going to follow us,” Wolf said to the lizard, who shrugged.

      “They can try.”

       Macbeth sprawled beneath them, its surface blackened and grey.  It was a desolate place, though its minerals gave life to the Lylat System and the Cornerian way.  Years ago, Wolf had called the bleak planet his home.  But that had been another life, one he did not like to reminisce over.  One of his hands gingerly moved to adjust his eyepatch and he looked away as they crossed over a mining facility.

       "Where are we headed?” he asked the lizard, who had aimed the carrier for outer space.  A flick of a switch and their defensive shields had gone up in preparation to break through the atmosphere. 

       “To my employer,” the lizard responded.

        “Just who exactly is this employer of yours?” Wolf asked, leaning back in the co-pilot’s seat but making sure to keep an eye on their radar.  The odds were likely that the Chasma guards would be on their tail, or at least calling in back up from a Cornerian fleet.  “And what does he want with me?” He gave a stretch.

        “He wants to talk with you,” the lizard answered. “About what, I cannot say.  He keeps his own secrets.”

         “All of this for a little chat over tea, huh?” Wolf smirked. “I could think of worse reasons to get busted out of Chasma Penitentiary.  Though, I’m surprised it was that easy.”

        “I spent months becoming part of the guard.  Earning trust.  Doing favors,” the lizard made a face. “It was not an easy task.  Nor do I wish to repeat it.”  He typed in a series of coordinates and Wolf scrunched his face with thought, trying to read where they were headed.  The lizard settled into his seat then gave a small sigh, as if breathing out his tension.

          Wolf scratched the back of his neck, feeling bumps on his skin.  Scabs covered his body from the harsh life of the prison.  Fights had been a common occurrence there and he had a taste for violence.  He had indulged overmuch, he knew, and that was likely why they had put him in solitary for a few days.  The canine grinned as he looked at the radar, the distance between their stolen carrier and Macbeth growing more and more by the second. 

         “There is a change of clothes for you in the back,” the lizard said and Wolf gladly went to go look.

          It was a simple shirt and pants, with a brown jacket to keep out the cold of space while they traveled.  He gave the clean clothes a sniff, and when he donned them, he felt almost like a new man.  The jumpsuit went into the trash, to be burned and its ashes scattered across the Lylat System.  Wolf could not say he would miss it.

          By the time he plopped back down into the co-pilot’s seat, the first of the Chasma guard had appeared on the radar.  It was a short-distance fighter, made primarily for planet travel, not space travel, and he smirked.

          “Is this all they’ve got?” he questioned.

          “The rest are likely behind him,” the lizard pressed the carrier into a faster pace. “But they won’t catch up.”

          “Why do you say that?” Wolf asked.

          The depths of space were quiet when the conversation died off.  Silence rested over them like a blanket.  Stars and nebulae drifted past them and eventually their pursuer from Chasma faded away and off the radar.  Wolf rolled his shoulders in a shrug, wondering how high the bounty on his head would be.  Civilization would hear of his escape and every bounty hunter and mercenary from Papetoon to Eladard would want to take him in.  The thought thrilled him and Wolf could not wait for the chase.

          Time ticked on slowly.  He was a restless soul but every time that he asked a question, the lizard only became more agitated and his answers became sharper, more enigmatic.  Wolf eventually gave up.  When the gaseous giant of Venom came into view, his nails dug into his arm rests and he looked to the lizard.

          “Is this some kind of joke?” Wolf asked the lizard, who shook his head in reply.  The canine gave a laugh. “You’re moving me from Chasma Penitentiary… to the death trap itself?  My damn luck couldn’t get any better.” Acidic sarcasm flowed from his words and he rose from his chair, blaster clicking ready as he pointed it at the lizard. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t roast you now.”

           “Because I took the core out of your blaster while you were changing,” the lizard replied and Wolf’s ears went back with anger.  Not taking the gun with him had been a careless mistake and he gnashed his teeth, lifting the blaster to strike the lizard. 

           A beep froze him in place however and the lizard cautiously moved to accept the transmission.  A set of burning eyes loomed on the other side of the screen, matched with a grizzled face and yellowed teeth. Wolf recognized the face from somewhere, but he could not quite place it.  Slowly, he lowered his hand and let the useless blaster fall to his side.

           “We are approaching Venom airspace.  The mission was a success.  I have Mr. O’Donnell with me,” the lizard said to the person on the other side. 

           “Very good.  I will be waiting for you at the base.”

            The screen went black and Wolf studied it for a moment, curiosity piqued.  He certainly had not been expecting a trip to the death planet of Venom, said to carry an atmosphere so deadly that it could kill a grown man in five minutes.  He looked to the lizard, brown eyes narrowed.

            “You’re working for an exiled man… on Venom?” Wolf questioned.

            “Exile is a matter of perspective,” the lizard replied. “Exiled from where?  Corneria?  Exiled from whom?  A government rife with political corruption?  Is that really being exiled?  Or is it a blissful, lawless freedom…”

            “I’m not here to debate semantics,” Wolf retorted. “No one goes to Venom ‘cause they want to.  It’s where they send the people they don’t want to execute swiftly.  It’s where they send the people too bad for Chasma.”

            “The Cornerians rule everything of the civilized world.  But we are in the uncivilized world.  A new law reigns here,” the lizard smiled slyly. “The law of our lord.”

            Venom’s poisonous green gas fell away and its red surface came into view.  There were steamed vents that poured from the dirt and stone, lethal lime-colored gas rising into the air.  The carrier glided over the fields of nothingness, ascending in altitude as the nothingness became craggy plateaus and dead forests.  From the carrier, Wolf could not see details about the forest, but the color was unlike even the feral planet of Fortuna.  There was a sickness about the massive vines and trees, as if they were suffering or perhaps even barely clinging to life.  Lylat’s light was shrouded by clouds, giving an unnatural crimson glow to the sky.  A stone structure was on the horizon and the carrier bore them to it. 

            The building was a temple, fashioned with metal where the architecture had caved in and fallen away.  Wolf marveled at its strangeness as they made a pass over its tallest point.  Apelike carvings guarded the entrance with permanent scowls upon their faces and an eerie feeling settled over his skin.  There was something ill about the place.  Something that even a hardened bounty hunter like Wolf did not like.  Walls of steel protected the outside of the temple, armed with searchlights and patrolling guards in gasmasks.  The lizard steered the plane towards an opening in the temple’s side.  Once the carrier had settled in, a massive door closed, blotting out the light.

            When the artificial lights within the temple came on, the ship was sprayed down with a white gas.  A booming voice over the intercom announced.

            “PURIFYING LANDING CHAMBER… PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR AIRCRAFT… PURIFYING LANDING CHAMBER… PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR AIRCRAFT…”

            After the voice had repeated the sentence a few times, a green light turned on near a door leading out of the hanger.  Almost immediately, the doors opened.  Wolf saw the ape step through, his shoulders broad and his beard salted with grey.  The ape’s gait was sturdy, confident—the walk of a leader, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

            It struck Wolf suddenly who this man was and his intrigue doubled, if not tripled, upon the realization.  He followed the lizard out of the carrier.  By the time they had made it onto the ramp, the ape had been joined by four guards, each a monkey equipped with a blaster and armor.  Their leader did not smile but blinked at their approach with stoicism that could have only been matched by a corpse. 

            “Greetings, Mr. O’Donnell,” the ape’s voice was calm and collected.  “I am Dr. Gestalt Andross.”  His hand extended forward and Wolf shook it.  Its firm grasp spoke as much as the doctor’s gait. 

            “Nice to meet you,” Wolf said and as his hand fell back to his side, he commented, “I guess I have you to thank for the prison break.”

            Andross’s lip curled into a smile. “I suppose you do.  But, come, this is not the place to discuss that.”  To the lizard, he added, “Leon.  Join us, please.”

            They entered the next hallway and took an elevator to the highest floor.  Wolf admitted it was slightly cramped with the group of guards, the tall Gestalt Andross and Leon, but he did his best not to accidentally throw an elbow into someone’s ribcage.  He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and waited until they reached the top.  Unlike the sleazy casinos and pubs he’d been to, the ones under the eye of some infamous mob lord or gangster, there was no music to entertain himself.  The elevator was insulated nicely, and no windows existed to gaze absentmindedly out of.  When the elevator doors opened, Dr. Andross stepped out first.

            His office was massive, filled with shelves that had books upon books.  Most of them contained large, fancy words that Wolf stumbled over even when he read them silently.  The large desk at the end of the room was backed by a window, overlooking the hellish wasteland of Venom.  The guards took their places by the exits, holding their blasters dutifully and in uniform.  Andross sat in the large armchair within his office and Wolf marveled over how he had built this, and gained such a following, all from the surface of a death trap.

            Leon stood at Andross’s left, his back to the reddish lands of Venom.  The ape poured himself a glass of liquor and did the same for Wolf without question.  Wolf sat across from him, taking the glass with mild interest.  Alcohol certainly sounded good, especially given how long he had been behind bars.

            “Wolfrik Thomas O’Donnell,” Andross said after giving his glass a swirl and then a drink.  There was a file on his desk and he opened it with one hand.  Wolf saw his own mugshot sitting there, along with information.  The ape’s eyes moved from Wolf to the file, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Wanted on Corneria, Eladard, Macbeth, Zoness, and Papetoon for the following crimes: larceny, assault, assault with a weapon, assault with a spacecraft, possession of an unauthorized spacecraft, theft, trespassing, breaking and entering, and murder.”  Andross took a drink.  “That’s quite an impressive resume.”

            “Why thank you,” Wolf replied. “I spent some time building it up.” He took a drink from the glass and felt the delicious burn of alcohol trickle down his throat.

            “That you have.  How does a miner’s son end up being one of the most wanted bounty hunters in the Lylat System?” Gestalt Andross asked.

            Wolf had his own questions but he knew better than to voice them.  Everyone and their mother knew of Dr. Andross, the supposed madman who had been put behind bars around a decade ago.  His experiments and insanity had cost Corneria City a lot of grief.  There was still rubble from the scientist’s last stand against Corneria City Police Department.  Rubble that had proven too costly to mess with and so the slums had slowly taken it over.  Wolf had only seen it in passing, but there were haunting tales about the collapsed buildings and wasted apartment buildings—tales of ghosts and bandits that looted the area, still finding corpses even to this day.

            Carefully, he took a drink from his glass, the rest of the alcohol sloshing down his esophagus.  “Rocks, jewels, coal, and minerals.  Ever since I was a pup, that was all they bothered to teach us Macbethian kids.  If you’re born there, they expect you’ll live there.  And then, you’ll die there.”  He grabbed the liquor bottle and poured himself another glass. “I don’t like people telling me what I can and can’t do.  I don’t like people telling me who I can and can’t be, either.”  When the glass was filled almost to the brim, Wolf stopped, then topped Andross’s drink off.  “There’s not much fun to be had with some rocks, especially in mining shafts designed so poorly that you’re breathing in toxic fumes half the day.  Besides, the world doesn’t wait for you to begin your life.  You gotta do it yourself.”

            “I see,” Andross said. “And because of that, you decided to leave Macbeth?”

            “Only to get dragged back as soon as I got caught on a botched mission.  The irony is beautiful, ain’t it?” Wolf chuckled. “I didn’t want to be a bounty hunter, but somehow, things just ended up that way.  I don’t particularly mind it, though.  It beats hacking at rocks all day.”

            “That it is,” Andross said, leaning back in his grand armchair.  “A shame that there are no official regulations to help the common man do humble work.”

            “Regulations mean paperwork and nobody likes that,” Wolf agreed and gave a hearty drink. 

            “You were picked up on Zoness.  Your beach plans go awry?” Andross quirked a brow at him.

            “Ha!” Wolf erupted, ears back as the laughter subsided. “Got in a bit over my head when I was trying to extort a guy.  Business mogul, you might know him.  Runs Space Dynamics these days.  Yaru DePon.”

            “My successor.  Yes, we do have a very long history,” Gestalt Andross remarked with a nostalgic chuckle in his voice. “Who was the man that turned you in?”

            “Heh… James McCloud,” Wolf replied and he noticed Andross visibly shift uncomfortably in his chair.  “I’ve had a few run-ins with him and his group before.  Never had a scrap quite like that one.”

            As Wolf took a drink, Gestalt watched him with some curiosity. “And would you like to have another scrap like it again?”

            One of the canine’s brows quirked and he set his glass down. “What do you mean by that?”  He tried to stifle the growing intrigue in his voice but it was becoming difficult to.  It was not every day that he was approached by one of the most notorious criminals in Lylat history.  Much less for an amiable chat over some potent liquor.

            “I mean to say that I am giving you your chance to have revenge on James McCloud.  Revenge for getting put into Chasma,” Dr. Andross answered smoothly. “Revenge on the Star Fox team.”

            Wolf studied Andross for a moment, rubbing his scruffy chin.  Nothing was so simple as revenge—even he knew that.  There were always catches, and Wolf knew that the catch was going to be big.  He supposed that Andross could have hired just about anyone to try to make a hit on the Star Fox team, though he doubted the average hired gun would be successful. There was a reason James McCloud was famous.  Not only was the fox a war hero but he was the highest ranking pilot to ever graduate from the Cornerian Academy.  Fighting him was going to be no easy task—be it in the air or on the ground.  That was not even considering his two loyal lackeys…

            And then, of course, there was the fact that Andross had poured in an absurd amount of time to break Wolf from Chasma Penitentiary. 

            “I’m listening,” Wolf said, mostly in order to keep the conversation going. “But don’t take this the wrong way.  I’m a simple guy.  And I know how to be professional.  I don’t hate James for doing his job.  We just had conflicting interests for the moment.  And he came out the winner… that time.”

            “You don’t believe in revenge?” Andross asked him.  He took a wistful, contemplative sip from his glass. “I find that hard to believe. Men such as yourself seem to revel in such bloodthirsty fantasies.”  When Wolf gave a shrug, Andross’s lip twisted into a smile. “Did you feel the same way about the man who took your eye?”

            One of Wolf’s ears flitted to the side, betraying him in an instant.  “That was a different case.”  He took a deep drink. 

            “So you aren’t fueled by revenge,” Andross mused aloud. “Then how about money?”

            “Mmm that’s my language,” Wolf leaned forward.

            “I’m offering you 5 million Cornerian credits,” Andross said, “As the upfront payment.”

            Wolf spat out his drink, fully aware of how embarrassing he was.  The doctor did not seem to so much as bat an eye at the outburst.  Leon gave a cackle and Wolf remembered that the lithe man was still there, watching with much interest in his blue eyes.  As Wolf mopped up the alcohol about his lips, he coughed through his words. “Up… Upfront payment?  Just what… what exactly are you… are you wanting me to do?”

            “In a matter of weeks, the Lylat System will be engulfed in a war.  One that will make the Cornerian Civil War look like a mere squabble.  Every planet will bend under the rule of a new sovereign.  The Cornerians will be abolished as the leaders of the empire in which they govern so strictly,” Gestalt Andross said, his tone ominous and dark. “In order for this to happen, I need guns.  Guns that have fought the good fight before.  Guns that know how this violent, dangerous game works.”

            “You want me to help you in your war?” Wolf asked, raising his brows.  “I do missions, I’m not a soldier or someone who can order around some troops.”

            “You will be a part of a squadron.  Handpicked by myself.  Aircraft have already been commissioned for the team.  I’m pouring thousands into their speedy, efficient production from a source I am well acquainted with,” Andross replied. “You will be outfitted.  Armed.  The only thing I ask is that you follow orders.”

            “Well, sir, like I said, I’m no—” Wolf began.

            “I don’t want a soldier.  I want someone I can trust to get jobs done.  Hits on bases.  Hits on cargo ships.  Taking out a certain thorn that is known as James McCloud,” the ape folded his hands together, fingers intertwining amidst each other. “5 million upfront and when the job is done and Corneria City is in ashes, you’ll receive the rest of it, straight from General Pepper’s vault.”

            He could not hide the smile growing on his lips.  Wolf was a simple man, one that had simple tastes.  More money than what he could imagine was on the line, and he knew Gestalt Andross did not fool around.  A glance to Leon and he could see the lizard’s eyes brimming with his own sense of intrigue and malicious glee.  Wolf concealed his mouth with a palm, rubbing at his chin as if in hard debate with himself.  In reality, the thought made him quiver with delight—such a force of joy that he teetered on the brink of an insane laugh.  Waging war against the Cornerians was like a farm turning on its farmer.  It was like a lord being butchered by his own slaves.  There was a poetic beauty to it and Wolf could not turn it down, no matter how hard he wanted to.

            “This squadron,” Wolf began thoughtfully.  “You’re handpicking the pilots?’

            “I am,” Andross said with the dip of his head. “I have four picked as of right now.”

            “Anyone I know?” Wolf asked.

            “Well, you know Leon,” Andross gestured to the lizard, who gave a small bow. “My dedicated assassin.  Did he tell you he hails from Kew?  It is said the inhabitants there consume poisons on a daily basis so that they built an immunity.”

            “Lovely,” Wolf commented. “And the others?”

            “My nephew, Andrew, will be joining you.  He is my heir, and I would not have him learn from any other person than the great Wolf O’Donnell,” Andross replied, yellowed teeth born in a smile.  “The last I’m afraid I cannot reveal just yet.  He is deep undercover and his identity must remain concealed.”

            “I see,” Wolf scratched behind one of his own ears. “And a 5 million upfront payment…” He whistled a low note. “What’s a guy to do?  Doesn’t have to go recruiting, gets 5 million upfront…” A shrug and the canine said, “Guess I have to accept it.”

            “Excellent,” Gestalt Andross replied gleefully. “We have quarters prepared for you here and the prototype to your spacecraft is in the hanger below where you landed.  I’ll message Andrew to meet us down there.  He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

            “Aw shucks, a fan?” Wolf remarked with a wry smirk. “Hope I live up to his expectations.”

            “I am certain you will.  But before we get ahead of ourselves…” Andross pulled out a document, sliding it to Wolf.  Next came the pen, black ink tipping it.  Wolf glanced at the paper, realizing it was a formal contract.  The doctor gave a small cough then cleared his throat. “This is an official contract, marking you as a member of the Venomian army.  Feel free to look over the wording yourself.”

            A gander over the sheet of paper and Wolf did not see anything that stood out as an issue.  He gave a rolling shrug then jotted his name down in his jerky, messy handwriting.  Andross withdrew the document, looking over the scraggly canine with pensive thought.  It was a moment before the ape said, “You do not take treason very seriously, do you?”

            He rubbed his chin as he chose his reply.  In all honesty, Wolf could not name a single Cornerian he hated, not except the ones he had killed.  But their ideals and their beliefs irked him to no end—their decrees of manifest destiny and their entitlement made the Lylat System their oysters.  And those who did not agree were done away with, made into society’s criminals or their jesters.  The Cornerians had filtered some of their own poison and corruption out with their civil war, but it was time to flush out the rest and start a new regime.  And perhaps… just perhaps all it needed was a crazy idea and the upfront payment of 5 million credits.

            “The head Cornerian honchos live mostly comfy lives.  Sometimes, it’s good to knock the totem pole down and make the ones at the top taste dirt,” Wolf shrugged. “Besides, it’s like I said… the world doesn’t wait.”


End file.
